


you don't know what hell you put me through (to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you)

by allofthecaffeine



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 90's London, Aftermath of Possession, Bars and Pubs, Basically my take on what happened to Nora after she escaped the Bureau, Demonic Possession, F/M, Gen, Great Depression, I made a little bastard Time Agent, It's a little AU, Missing Scene, New York City, On the Run, Time Agents, Time Bureau (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), Time Travel, and slowly gets more AU over time, between Ray giving her the Time Stone and her release from Bureau custody, between him and Nora before this fic starts, but at the same time he is my little shitbag baby and I live for one-upping him though Nora, but for the most part can be read as Nora's side of canon, do I even know what happened in Hong Kong?, his name is Jensen Bartlet and I hate him so much, just mentioned in passing like everyone is supposed to Know, no beta I chug the creative juice like its a rasputin smoothie, nothing is explicitly stated though, rated teen for disturbing imagery related to demonic possession, there is a Backstory™, title from 'To Be Alone' by Hozier, we shall see, will I ever tell you what happened in Hong Kong?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthecaffeine/pseuds/allofthecaffeine
Summary: From the day he wormed his way into her head, Mallus (Malice; Mallus was a montegreen) had always been waiting, writhing, wrestling her soul into submission. It was Mallus’ magic that crept like poison through her veins; Mallus’ voice that whispered in her ear, sweet and decadent and deadly as it led her to ruin. He spent two decades dripping into her eyes and thoughts and dreams like hot oil, soiling anything and everything as he twisted her into the shape he wanted her to be.
Relationships: Nora Darhk & Ray Palmer, Nora Darhk/Ray Palmer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, pretend that Nora didn't use her magic during that battle against Mallus' minions, but instead her innate badassery and a fancy blaster she lifted from the Waverider.

When Nora was thirteen, her body was sold to a demon.

Thirteen was supposed to be slumber parties and art club and schoolyard romance ( _ Cindy liked Kenneth, but Kenneth liked Andrea, who liked Devon, who liked Ekanshi, who’d been smitten with Cindy since 5th grade and thought no-one knew _ ). It was supposed to be wearing perfume because it made her feel older, choosing horror movies over trick-or-treating and blowing her allowance on dumb romance novels. Thirteen was supposed to be finding out who she was and who she wanted to be on her own terms, in her own time. Thirteen, Nora thought, was supposed to be happy.

From the day he wormed his way into her head, Mallus ( _ Malice; Mallus was a montegreen _ ) had always been waiting, writhing, wrestling her soul into submission. It was Mallus’ magic that crept like poison through her veins; Mallus’ voice that whispered in her ear, sweet and decadent and deadly as it led her to ruin. He spent two decades dripping into her eyes and thoughts and dreams like hot oil, soiling anything and everything as he twisted her into the shape he wanted her to be. 

She was lucky to be alive, she knew, even in the loosest sense of the word. Twenty years was nearly two thirds of her life. To spend that long shoved into the farthest foggy recess of her own mind was something no-one, not even Mallus, thought she’d make it back from. It had honestly never occurred to her that she’d ever have her body to herself again. Nora’d given up hope for that years ago as she watched herself hurt John, and Sara, and Leo and Zari and  _ Ray _ . 

Ray, who was the reason Nora’s thoughts were her own for the first time in what felt like forever. Even though it was her father that had shot her, it was Ray’s nanite gun, and Ray’s antidote, and Ray’s face that she saw first - clearer than she could remember seeing anything - when she woke up in the med bay. Ray, who had helped her more than anything, who had given her more kindness and compassion in half a day than anyone else had in half her lifetime, who had given her a chance to finally live a life of her own, on her own terms, in her own time. Ray, who she’d probably never see again.

Her father’s Time Stone weighed heavily in her pocket as she hurried down the street. New York City, 1933; the height of the Great Depression. She’d found herself a run-down tent in Hooverville where no one asked about papers or names or anything, really. The people were nice enough, and being surrounded by so much life was almost soothing. Still, Nora knew she’d only stay for another few days before moving on. 

( _ Sorry ma’am, excuse me, sir, won’t be long. Just passing through _ )

It wasn’t safe for her to stay too long in one place, not without a concrete plan. She had to stay off the radar so that the Time Bureau couldn’t track her down, and one too many close calls had proven to her that her future wasn’t as limitless as she’d naïvely believed it to be. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Nora essentially had all the world skills of a 7th grader and the lack of education to boot.  _ Life on her own terms _ was starting to look more and more like  _ life doing whatever she needed to do to keep from starving to death _ . So far she’d been a waitress in 60’s Wisconsin, a secretary in 19th century Italy, homeless in Prague, Hong Kong  _ and _ Istanbul, and a barkeep in 90’s London. 

90’s London. Now, hadn’t  _ that _ been a mistake.

* * *

_ After four months of figuring out how to live in the stillness of her own head, how to walk and talk and breathe without being pulled along like a puppet, she thought she’d been doing okay.  _

_ Nora still remembered the early days, just after her escape from the Bureau, when Mallus’ absence was fresh. She’d chosen a small diner in the middle of nowhere, swiped a few dollars from the tip jar before the waitress noticed, and seated herself in a corner booth opposite the door. It was the first moment she’d had to herself in decades, and the silence had felt deafening. No voices whispering in her ear; no-one else dragging her through thoughts and actions she’d never wanted a part of. Her body was her own, her mind was her own, and it terrified her. Nora’d forgotten that so many choices went along with living. Did she want a chocolate shake with her burger? Strawberry? Caramel? Vanilla? Did she even like milkshakes? A beat, and then;  _ Why couldn’t she remember _? _

_ The panic attack had lasted nearly half an hour. _

_ Nora couldn’t remember the way anything tasted, even knowing she’d eaten at least twice a day for the last 20 years. She couldn’t remember her favourite colour, her favourite city, her favourite song. All she’d had were impressions and concepts, and fuzzy memories from half a lifetime ago. It had hit her, sitting in the dingy bathroom off the side of the diner, that she’d never even been on her own before. As a kid, she’d had both parents, then her father, then John and the doctors at Sumner Asylum. She’d never looked out for herself before Mallus, and from then-on-out her actions were rarely her own. The last thing she’d ever ordered for herself was that stupid hot chocolate - the one she never even got to finish because Mallus took over and flipped the damn table. No wonder she’d freaked on that poor waitress. She was on her own for the first time in her life, in a foreign time period, and she couldn’t even remember if she liked sauce with her fries. _

_ Over the next few months, though, things had started coming back to her. It was as if her life had been cut up like a puzzle. Sometimes, if she was in the right spot at the right time, she’d find another little piece that would click into place and make things a tiny bit clearer. The stuff that Nora still couldn’t remember, she figured out on a case-by-case basis. She’d been in Istanbul for nearly a week before snippets of Turkish started to come back to her, but she still couldn’t seem to get her coffee right. Pink frosting could take a flying leap. Restaurants, breakfast foods, colours, patterns, shampoo, music - she had a preference for everything eventually, and living on her own became a bit more manageable. Noise, Nora’d learned, was also good. A steady and constant hum, the kind found in pubs and markets and homeless shelters, helped fill the void where Mallus used to simmer beneath her skin. For all Nora hated him, she’d grown accustomed to his presence - her mind and soul stretched and moulded to take up less room. Her body felt cold and empty with only her in it. Most days, though, she was able to muddle through. Staying busy kept her distracted, and it was easier to hide in a bustling crowd, anyway. _

_ By this logic, Nora thought London would be the perfect place to lay low for a while. She ended up picking a year in the late 20th century, close enough to her time to feel familiar whilst still far enough in the past to avoid being recognised. 1991, London Town. After the mess with Agent Bartlet in Hong Kong, she made sure to do a little recon before settling in an era, and this time was no different. A careful sweep of the neighborhood brought up nothing out of the ordinary, and there was a shitty dive bar down the road from where she arrived that was looking for someone to serve drinks.  _

_ Things were looking pretty good. _

_ Nora knew it would take a few days to sort everything out; find a flat, find some clothes, see about that job at the bar. Aside from the usual stress of setting up shop, though, London was looking like the perfect place to lay low for a while. And, for a while, it was. She got the job at  _ The Painted Lady _ pretty easily (tight jeans and a low-cut top did wonders for a resumé). There was an abandoned building near the edge of the commercial district that wasn’t scheduled for demolition for another 6 months, so she even had a place to stay rent free. Most of the bar patrons were friendly, if not a little crude, and everyone seemed to buy her story about the shitty ex that kicked her out with nothing. Nora let herself relax, little by little, as the days went by without too many questions or any sign of Agent Bartlet and his Time Bureau taskforce. _

_ (Part of her - the part that used to bring murder mysteries to sleepovers and lived for the latest episode of  _ Bones _ \- was almost excited about the taskforce. Almost. Agent Bartlet was still an ass, and the other agents followed him like suit-wearing, time-travelling sheep.) _

_ She’d been in London nearly three weeks when it happened. _

_ Phil, the owner of  _ The Painted Lady _ , was in Alfriston visiting his sister. It said something about the rest of his employees that he trusted her the most to lock up shop but, hey, she wasn’t gonna complain. The barkeep working the closing shift got paid extra.  _

_ Nora finished up her final sweep of the bar. Chairs up, tables wiped, glasses cleaned and put away; everything was in order. Grabbing her bag from the safe in Phil’s office, she checked the windows one more time before heading out the back exit. She felt the usual uneasiness that came with being in a dark alley on her own. The only bad thing about closing shift - aside from having to pry Lite Lager Lonnie from his stool by the bar - was walking home at 3am. Big cities pretty much guaranteed creepy dudes lurking in backstreets after dark, and Nora thanked her lucky stars she hadn’t come across any yet. _

_ Still, as a precaution, she slotted Phil’s bar keys between her fingers like a set of metal claws. Better safe than sorry, she thought, turning and heading back towards her loft. _

_ There was a gentle wind blowing through the streets that night. Litter rustled in the gutters, and her footsteps echoed loudly in the empty spaces between buildings. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t notice - why she didn’t hear him coming until it was too late. _

_ “What’s a girl like you doing all alone at this hour, sweetheart?” _

_ The voice came from directly behind her. Nora startled, shoulders tensing, but a firm hand gripped her own before she could turn the keys on whoever was behind her. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she felt him press up against her, practically breathing into her ear when he spoke again- _

_ “The streets can be a dangerous place after dark.” _

_ That voice, dark and steady and so, so close, sent a jolt of fear straight down her spine. The accent, the heat of his body burning a hole through her jacket - it sent her over the edge. Her thoughts melted suddenly like snow on a hotplate, slipping sideways into the pit where Mallus used to hide (Mallus, who burned and hurt and whispered, who sounded so similar). She couldn’t go through that again. Her body was hers; hers to use as she pleased, and she couldn’t let someone else try and take that freedom away from her. _

_ Everything happened so fast.  _

_ A deep thrumming  _ something _ flushed through her and Nora tensed even further, her body already preparing for something her brain had yet to catch up on. Behind her, the man reached up with his free hand to run a finger down her cheek. Fear took hold of her for one paralysing second. Then, the magic burst free. The man was thrown away from her, the force of the wave flinging him at the wall to their back with a crack loud enough to make her flinch. Nora turned. _

_ The man - thickset, maybe 40 years old with graying hair and a scraggly goatee - lay crumpled on the ground. His arm was bent at an odd angle, blood dripping steadily from a gash on his forehead the size of Nora’s thumb, but he was breathing. She heaved a sigh of relief before the real panic hit. _

I pushed him back with magic.

_ All her life, she’d thought her magic was tied to Mallus and his influence. In part, she supposed, it had been. The steady hum she felt now was nothing like the dark, twisted power that used to sizzle beneath her skin. It felt like a part of her. _

_ Nora swallowed, terrified. If magic really was still a part of her, how much of what she’d done as Mallus really was him? How much of it was her? If there was still magic inside her, could the Bureau track it?  _

_ Her breath hitched in her throat and Nora shook her hands a little to calm herself. She had to keep a level head here. There wasn’t going to be another Hong Kong, not if she could help it - it was hard enough stitching herself up the first time and she wasn’t eager for a do-over. If the Time Bureau could track her magic, they would have been alerted when she threw the man against the wall. Bartlet and his agents could be there any minute.  _

_ Nora rushed back down the street to the bar and unlocked the door, letting herself back in. Phil had another set of keys; she was supposed to open up tomorrow and hand these back when he came in later, but she supposed a note would do. A short glance around the office found her a pencil and an old bank invoice, and she scribbled out a quick message before dropping both, with the keys, in the middle of the desk. Her father’s Time Stone was cool against her fingers.  _

_ One last look around the office, and Nora was gone. _

* * *

Things had gone a little downhill after that. It was as if discovering she still had magic had woken up every fear she thought she’d put to bed, made her question every thought and decision she’d made since she woke up in the Waverider’s medbay. What if the magic was a sign that Mallus wasn’t truly gone? What if he’d twisted her so much over the years that she wasn’t even human? What if Ray - sweet, hopeful Ray - had gone to all that trouble saving her for nothing?

Those thoughts weren’t healthy, Nora knew. They were irrational, distracting and, honestly, a little depressing. She’d seen Mallus die - she knew that there was no way he could still be influencing her, and Ray’s funky AI helper lady would have told him if there was something up with her biology. She was fine. Her father had done magic without demonic intervention, and so had John. The world wasn’t ending because she could still heat her soup up with a thought.

(That was what she tried to convince herself, anyway.)

Besides, for all she complained about moving from place to place, it was nice to see the world with her own eyes. Prague had been magnificent at night, and Istanbul had had the best street food she’d ever tasted. Even New York seemed to have its own unique charm despite the economic struggles of the era. The people carried with them a subtle resilience that seemed to draw life from even the darkest times.  _ Case and point _ , Nora thought, ducking into the mouth of an alleyway to make room for a scruffy trio of schoolgirls. One of them was holding a letter over her head, trying to read it aloud above her own laughter. The smallest of the girls kept jumping up to snatch it back, but her other friend kept shoving her out of the way so the blonde one could keep reading. Nora huffed out a laugh of her own, smiling fondly as she stepped back out into the street. Some things stayed the same regardless of where you went in history, it seemed.

Including the insufferable presence of Agent Bartlet.

She was shuffling past another alleyway when she spotted him. He was stood on the corner, his stupid middle part drawing a straight white line down the centre of his head as he glanced down at his time courier. To his right was another agent, Anneke Visser, and Nora knew from experience that the rest of his taskforce wouldn’t be far away. She side-stepped into the mouth of the alleyway, the stench of refuse hitting her as she slipped further away from the crowd. It wasn’t as clean as the last alley, and she knew she’d need to put a fair bit of distance between herself and the entryway if she didn’t want anyone to notice her using the Time Stone. 

Nora sighed. 

  
_ Eighth time’s the charm, I guess _ .


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you _doing_ here?” She whisper-shouted, slapping her hands against his chest. He couldn’t just show up out of nowhere! How did he even find her? What if someone from the Time Bureau saw them together? If Bartlet caught wind of Ray helping her, he’d be in deeper shit than Mallus had ever hurled at him.
> 
> At least he had the decency to look sheepish about it, Nora thought, watching as he looked down at her with his best scolded puppy face. On anyone else she’d think they were faking it, but Ray was so goddamn wholesome, she knew the expression was genuine. She softened a little at the apology in his eyes. Regardless of the why, she really _was_ glad to see him. Even if it did end up bringing the Time Bureau down on both of their heads.
> 
> Ray exhaled.
> 
> “I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Another update, because I'm bored and have been waiting to share this with people for months now. (maybe the pressure of exhausting my written reserves will motivate me to finish this? who knows. certainly not me)

After spotting Agent Bartlet in New York, Nora had hopped from one place to another for several days, in case he somehow picked up a trail, before settling in California. It had been a serious toss up between there and Berlin, but her English was a hell of a lot better than her German (i.e., she remembered how to say more than  _ ambulance _ and  _ one iced coffee, please _ ) and the thought of Agent Bartlet spending weeks and weeks tracking her down, only for her to turn up in the Bureau’s back yard? His dumb weasel face was going to be priceless, and she took her amusement wherever she could get it these days.

Finding work was easier than she’d thought it would be. It helped that she had ‘previous customer service experience’ from her weeks at  _ The Painted Lady _ and that diner in Wisconsin, and the low V of her tank top seemed to make the bossman forget about a background check completely. ‘Sara Palmer’ soon had a paid position at the Renaissance Fair and, after selling a sob story to an old lady by the archery range, a place to stay as well. Marcia, as her name turned out to be, had an overstuffed pull-out couch in her basement for when her son came to stay. He was in the military, though, and wouldn’t be home until Christmas, so she could stay as long as she needed without having to worry about getting in the way. 

Nora even spotted Ray’s picture in the paper, once. It was an older photo, likely taken a year or so before he joined the Legends, but he still had the same kind eyes and stupidly adorable smile as he did in Salvation. Seeing him again, even in print, made everything she’d been doing the past six months feel a little more worth it. It was easier to handle the leering gazes of the men at work, easier to put up with Marcia’s horrible lasagna and the way her shoulder still ached sometimes when it rained. Ray was the only reason she’d been given this second chance and there was no way in hell she was going to waste it.

That was how she found herself working an extra shift at the tavern that afternoon, Ray’s picture tucked away in her wallet under the counter. He would want her to be kind, Nora knew, so when Mike had asked if she could cover for Lavender (without extra pay, mind, the stingy bastard), she said yes. She had to keep reminding herself that she was trying to be a good person, that this was a favor for a friend, that Ray would be proud of her, because the customers today were being extra pervy and if one more middle-aged creep tried to take a photo of her cleavage she was  _ going _ to shove their phone where the sun didn’t shine.

“... a thousand pardons,” her current annoyance was saying. The patronising drawl of his voice grated on her every nerve, and it took everything in her not to take that freaking phone from his weirdo meaty man hands and snap it over his-

“A Palmer Tech phone?”

A familiar figure stepped forward, eyes flitting over her briefly before taking the device from the man’s hands, ignoring his spluttering. Nora stared.  _ What the hell was happening? _

“Great software,” Ray continued - because  _ of course _ it was him, perfect moral compass that he was, casually stepping in to defend her honour like he hadn’t helped her escape  _ literal time prison _ the last time they saw each other. He was gripping the phone in both hands now. One swift twist had it ripping in half like paper. 

“Terrible hardware.”

“My  _ phone! _ ”

The man charged forward sloppily, face storming beneath his tacky helmet as he postured for a fight. It was almost comical how easily Ray drew the man’s own sword. In any other situation, Nora would be smiling, maybe laughing a little, and incredibly grateful that someone whose paycheck wasn’t on the line stepped in before she could get herself in trouble. At the moment, though, she was more surprised to see Ray than anything else. Nora made sure the man had retreated from the tent completely before wheeling around to face her knight in stupid polo shirt.

“What are you  _ doing _ here?” She whisper-shouted, slapping her hands against his chest. He couldn’t just show up out of nowhere! How did he even find her? What if someone from the Time Bureau saw them together? If Bartlet caught wind of Ray helping her, he’d be in deeper shit than Mallus had ever hurled at him.

At least he had the decency to look sheepish about it, Nora thought, watching as he looked down at her with his best scolded puppy face. On anyone else she’d think they were faking it, but Ray was so goddamn wholesome, she knew the expression was genuine. She softened a little at the apology in his eyes. Regardless of the why, she really  _ was _ glad to see him. Even if it did end up bringing the Time Bureau down on both of their heads.

Ray exhaled.

“I need your help.”

* * *

They stopped at Marcia’s place on the way back to the Waverider so Nora could change.

In the taxi on the way over, he’d explained to her what had happened with John and the shtriga. How John had sacrificed his freaking  _ life force  _ to save a young boy like the mushy-hearted moron he secretly was. She’d always known he had it in him to be a hero. 

Him and Ray were two of the only people who’d ever truly believed in her. If they needed her help, she was going to do everything in her power, hiding be damned.

Grabbing her jacket from where she’d tossed it last night, Nora ascended the basement stairs and made her way into the kitchen. Ray was exactly where she’d left him. He looked up from the small dining table in the corner when he heard her come in, and rose to meet her by the doorway.

“Did you write the note?” She asked. Her bag strap slipped off of her shoulder. His right hand came up to push it back into place, and the simple affection of the gesture made her skin tingle with a pleasant warmth, for once.

Ray nodded in answer, poking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the fridge.

“Pinned it up with the squiggly cat magnet. You’re sure you don’t want to come back here, after? I- I’m not, uh, I mean… we’re not gonna turn you in or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Him and his stupid bleeding heart. She’d forgotten how much she truly missed him.

“I’m not worried about that,” she reassured him, smiling outright at the look of relief that came over his face, “I was going to move on in a week or so anyway. Agent Bartlet and his band of morons should be catching up to me sometime soon.”

“Agent who?”

“Jensen Bartlet. He’s with the Time Bureau, heading the taskforce that’s supposed to be tracking me down. Asshole nearly caught me a couple of times, too, but he’s been slowing down lately. I was in New York for nearly a month before he caught up with me.”

She said it off-handedly, the way one might comment on the weather, but Ray’s brow still furrowed in concern. His eyes were doing that stupid watery thing that made her want to hug him half to death.

“Nora…”

“I’m fine. Honestly, seeing the world? It’s pretty cool. Bartlet’s just motivation to keep me moving along to the next vacation spot.” 

That seemed to placate him a little. He was still looking at her funny - and after her lonely last few months she was really close to losing the do-not-cave-and-hug-him battle - but his mouth was lifting up slowly into a half smile. Nora suppressed a fond sigh. She didn’t know how long it’d be before she had to leave again, but his smile was a guilty pleasure she wanted to indulge in as often as possible before she said goodbye. 

Sensing that they were done in the kitchen, Ray nudged her shoulder slightly and offered her his arm. Her heart fluttered about in her chest. Stupid Raymond Palmer with his stupidly nice arms and his extra stupid manners making her feel things. Stupid. So stupid. 

She curled her hand around his forearm and led him back towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter kicks off with Nora chillin' in time prison! Expect much contemplation, long-distance comforting, and bashing of Jensen Bartlet (mayhaps I shall reveal more about Hing Kong.... hmmmmm)
> 
> See you soon :-)
> 
> -💜

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> So, I mostly wrote this because I was baffled by the distinct lack of trauma depicted in the aftermath of Nora's possession, and also because there are so few Nora-centric fics on this site so why not kill two spiders with one book? I did do quite a bit of research into mental issues to try and construct an idea of how demonic possession could affect a person, though I will admit that this is mostly my educated guess interwoven with past OCD, Anxiety and Depression experiences of my own. I didn't want to draw too strongly on something I didn't have a personal reference for.
> 
> I am also 100% aware that this is a very intense way to start off a fic, and I want you to know that it does get better from here on out. We get actual Ray Palmer content next chapter, and the start of some serious Darhkatom cuteness in C3 (which is as far as I have anything pre-written, so bear with me if I'm a little slow to update). Hope to see you lovelies again in the next chapter!
> 
> \- 💜


End file.
